


You Spin Me Right Round

by afirethatcannotdie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Music, Niall and Liam are mentioned but they just didn't fit in sorry boys, squeaky hinges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9466301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afirethatcannotdie/pseuds/afirethatcannotdie
Summary: AU. Louis memorizes soliloquies and bothers Zayn at work and Harry is the handsome boy looking to buy a record.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [KK](http://waytoomanypeopleintheaddisonlee.tumblr.com/) and [Lissie](http://phd-mama.tumblr.com) for your Britpick and beta skills. The main prompt for this fic came from a tumblr post, which I've linked in the end notes so as to avoid spoilers.

Louis is in the middle of rifling through a drawer next to the till for an iPhone charger when his life changes.

“Zayn, listen, stop talking about Liam for just _one_ second and tell me where your phone charger is.”

“I wasn't even talking about him -- no, it’s in the drawer below that one. Anyway, if you were listening, which you clearly were not, what I was saying is that--”

The door opens, the loud screeching of the squeaky hinge cutting Zayn off. Louis doesn’t bother looking up, just keeps searching for the charger which, no matter what he says, is definitely _not_ in the bottom drawer.

“Hi, welcome to Empire Records,” Zayn calls to the customer, his usual greeting that Louis has heard a hundred -- no, probably a thousand -- times before. “Just so you know, our deal of the day is that all records from the year 1994 are half price today.”

“Hey, that’s when I was born,” the customer says, and it’s a boy, his voice rich and warm, smooth as honey. The kind of voice Louis wants to hear when he wakes up in the morning, tucked under a warm, fluffy blanket. And quite possibly the person he wants to wake up to as well, he realizes as he raises his eyes to look at him.

Louis drops the pocket knife he’s been holding and it falls into the drawer with a loud clang, startling Zayn, who gives him a funny look.

“Well, isn’t that funny,” Zayn says to the boy -- Louis’ future husband -- “let us know if we can be of any help.”

The boy gives a dorky little wave and walks toward the row of records lined up against the window. He’s gorgeous, dark hair in ringlets around his face, bright pink lips that _cannot_ be natural, and a plaid shirt that clings to his tall frame like it was made for him. Louis is no stranger to beautiful people, sees them every day in the drama department and has had his fair share of them in his bed, but this boy -- this boy is different. This boy blows the others away, causes Louis to forget about whoever he’d been interested in that morning. This boy is _the one_.

“Lou, can you help me with--”

“Sorry, Zayn, I can’t help you with your Shakespeare homework right now,” Louis mutters as he ducks behind the counter, pretending that he’s looking for something he dropped on the ground.

“What are you doing, why are you being so weird?”

“Stop talking to me,” Louis mutters again, taking a deep breath as he tries to recover from seeing the most beautiful human _in the world_. “I’m gonna -- I need to--”

He doesn’t bother to finish the sentence before he’s off to the front of the shop, closer to where Future Husband is flicking through a set of records in the rock section. Louis is tempted to go up to him, but he can’t think of a single witty thing to say and ‘I want to take that shirt off you’ doesn’t seem like an appropriate thing to say to a stranger. Not that he’s going to be a stranger for long, if Louis has anything to say about it.

No, Louis is just going to continue to stalk him around the shop, watching the graceful way he moves as Louis hides behind pillars and bookcases to get a better look. Everything about him is poised and confident, from the way he flicks through the records with long, long fingers adorned with rings to the way that he picks one up, reads the back of it, and then puts it back. He never puts anything in the wrong place, which means he has an appreciation for workers in the customer service industry. Or something like that. Louis doesn’t really care, he just wants to know everything there is to know about this boy, wants to hear his voice raspy from sleep, wants to hear him shape the letters of Louis’ name, wants to swallow his words with his own mouth.

Louis _might_ be getting a little ahead of himself.

He can see Zayn up at the counter, watching Louis with a knowing smile, the kind that says ‘I know exactly what you’re doing and you are ridiculous.’ When they lock eyes, Louis just flips him off and continues to observe Future Husband. Future Boyfriend might be a better name for now; no need to be so presumptuous on the first day.

There’s a moment when he lifts his head and Louis is so sure he’s going to get caught, so he puts on a bashful smile and picks up the first record he sees, pretending to study it intently. He catches the boy smiling at him and he’s certain they’re about to fall in love, but then he looks at the title of the record he’s just picked up. _Bedtime Songs for Kids_. Great. Real cool, Louis. Way to make an impression.

Louis shoves the record back onto the shelf and moves into the next aisle, but by this time Future Boyfriend is on his way to the counter. No, absolutely not, Zayn is _not_ going to steal Future Boyfriend away from him. Never mind the fact that just yesterday Zayn said he was thinking about proposing to Liam; when faced with the green, green eyes of Future Boyfriend, who knows what could happen.

He rushes to the register, trying not to make it obvious that he’s a man on a mission, and elbows Zayn out of the way. “What’re you doing? No, stop that!” Zayn says, low under his breath, and Louis just twists his nipple in response.

“Ouch,” Zayn mutters, rubbing the spot, but Louis is too busy focused on putting on a good face for Future Boyfriend, who’s ambling to the counter now, having stopped to look at a few new releases during the nipple twisting.

“Don’t you have a squeaky door hinge to fix?” Louis mutters to Zayn, who shakes his head, grinning in a way that makes Louis want to punch him.

“Just the one?” Louis says as Future Boyfriend places the record on the counter. _Be smooth, be smooth, be smooth._

“Just the one,” he confirms. God, up close like this he’s even more beautiful, tanned skin and bright, bright eyes and the pinkest lips Louis has seen. He kind of wants to kiss them, very much a lot. Louis wants to do many, many things to this boy.

“You a Stones fan, then?” Louis asks, scanning the barcode onto the till and trying not to fuck up in front of this vision of a boy. He’s only done this a handful of times, and he’s not supposed to be doing it at all; Nick Grimshaw, Zayn’s boss, doesn’t mind Louis hanging around the shop as long as he keeps out of trouble, but this doesn’t seem to fall under that category.

“Well, it’s actually for -- yeah, I am.”

“That’ll be fifteen pounds then,” Louis says, and the boy smiles at him as he hands over the money. Wow, he’s actually managed to pull this one off. He’d give himself a pat on the back if he didn’t think it’d make him look like an arse.

“You’ve got a good selection of records here,” the boy comments.

“You could sign up for our mailing list, you know,” Louis says, ignoring Zayn’s bemused smile. “You’ll get emails with our daily deals and we’ll tell you when we get new things in.” It’s a speech he’s heard Zayn give a thousand times before, so he’s no stranger to the words. Still, they sound stilted and foreign coming out of his own mouth.

There’s a pause, and Louis thinks that Future Boyfriend is going to decline. Which would mean that Louis would never get his name, or talk to him for longer than two minutes, which would sharply reduce the chances of him ever becoming Future Boyfriend at all.

“Yeah, you know what?” The boy says, a wide smile spreading across his face. “I’ll do that. Gives me a good reason to come back.”

 _Harry Styles_ , Louis watches him write, reading the words upside down. He looks at the boy again. Harry. It fits him well. Harry lifts his eyes to look right at Louis’ and Louis shoves the till drawer shut as a reflex, trying to pretend that he hasn’t just been staring at the slope of Harry’s nose. Louis has memorized a thousand sonnets, but he can’t find a single one that properly describes this boy.

“Erm… do you have my change?”

 _Oh fuck._ Harry was supposed to get five pounds back and Louis has just closed the drawer and has not the faintest idea of how to get the money back out of the till. Behind him, he can hear Zayn snickering. Louis’ mind is running a million miles a minute as he tries to figure out how to dig himself out of this hole and still look like a smooth individual, but there’s no way.

“I’ll get it,” Zayn offers, gently elbowing Louis out of the way and unlocking the cash drawer with his key. Louis tries to look like this is a normal procedure as Zayn hands Harry his money.

There’s a split second where he and Harry lock eyes and just stare at each other, and Louis’ throat feels dry and he can’t think of anything to say. He hears Zayn clear his throat and say, “Well, thanks for shopping, come back soon.”

“I will,” Harry says, eyes pulling away from Louis’, and then he’s walking out of the shop. Zayn has the decency to keep quiet until the door, hinges squeaking as usual, has shut behind him, but then he immediately turns on Louis.

“Don’t,” Louis warns, holding up a finger in warning. “Don’t even start.”

“You’re in _love_!” Zayn says gleefully.

“I am not!” Louis squeaks. “And would you keep your voice down, there are other customers here trying to shop.”

“I can’t believe this day has come, you’re well and truly in love. I can’t believe that I, of all people, get to witness it. I feel so fortunate.”

“Shut up.”

Luck’s on his side because Zayn gets pulled away to deal with a customer who needs help finding an obscure classical music record, and Louis slumps against the counter, staring at the printed letters on the mailing list sign-up page.

 _Harry Styles_.

His neat, careful handwriting is such a contrast to Louis’ own, and Louis wants to know what his own name would look like in Harry’s handwriting, what it’d look like on birthday cards and post-it notes around their flat and on their marriage certificate.

Whoa, okay. Too much.

 _Or is it just enough_? Louis wonders, thinking about those green eyes and wondering if he’ll ever get to see them again.

♬

Louis pushes the door to the record shop open with an elbow, trying not to bump into the older woman who’s looking at the new releases at the front of the shop.

“You made it!” Zayn says cheerily as Louis drops his haul onto the counter. “Thought you’d gotten lost.”

“In central London?” Louis asks. “Never.”

It’s actually a running joke between them, because Louis does tend to get lost a lot. Just last week, Liam suggested he get a compass tattoo to help him find his way. Louis had rewarded him with the middle finger.

“What’ve you got for me today?” Zayn asks, already reaching into the brown paper bag and pulling out a sandwich.

“Stop it, you twat, that one’s mine.” Louis slaps his hand away.

“Oh, excuse me, your highness. Didn’t realize there were special orders this time.”

“It’s got extra bacon,” Louis confesses. “Otherwise they’re the same.”

“Oh, fuck off, you didn’t want to pay fifty pence extra for more for me?”

“Consider it a delivery charge.” Louis jumps up on the counter and unwraps his sandwich, some combination of ham and cheese and lettuce and extra bacon and whatever else the girl at the shop had thrown in there. He’s always ravenous after class; he’d eat anything, at this point.

“How was class?” Zayn asks as he bites into his own sandwich.

“Was good,” Louis says through a mouth full of food. “Worked on our monologues again. Can’t believe there’s only a month til the showcase.”

“You’re gonna kill it,” Zayn encourages, and for half a heartbeat, Louis insists on denying it, thinking of all the other students who are far more experienced, far more talented, way more theatrically-minded than he is. But then he remembers that Zayn is his roommate and thus has spent many hours listening to Louis rehearse, intentionally or not.

“Thanks, Zaynie,” Louis says, reaching over to ruffle Zayn’s hair. “I hope so.”

There’s a few minutes of silence when they’re both eating, the only sound that of two customers chatting in the corner in low tones. It’s the woman Louis had nearly bumped into when he’d come in with his arms full of food, and another woman who seems to be in here every week. Louis wonders what it’s like to be old, if you just spend your days wandering from shop to shop for entertainment.

“Your boy was here earlier,” Zayn comments, and Louis tries his absolute hardest to keep his head from spinning to stare at Zayn. It doesn’t work, and he just looks at him, eyes wide.

“When?”

“This morning,” Zayn says, and then, with a smirk: “So you admit he’s your boy, then?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louis tries, but he can’t stop himself from demanding that Zayn tell him everything about the encounter.

“He bought another record. Red Hot Chili Peppers this time.”

“A boy after my own heart,” Louis says, hand to his heart like an old-fashioned maiden. “How’d he look?”

“Good,” Zayn says, and privately, Louis thinks that _good_ isn’t an adequate adjective for someone as beautiful as Harry Styles, but he’s not going to allow the conversation to get sidetracked. “I think he was looking for you.”

“You’re joking,” Louis says. “Don’t mess with my heart like that, mate.”

“‘m serious,” Zayn says, popping the last bit of his wrap into his mouth and crumpling the paper. “Dawdled for a bit and kept looking around. Think he was two seconds from asking for you by name. Except, oh wait, he doesn’t know your name because you never introduced yourself.”

“I can’t believe I missed him,” Louis whines mournfully as he slides down off the counter. “That’s it, I need to be here all the time now in case he comes back in.”

It’s been precisely six days since he met Harry, and he’s thought of little else but him since. It’s ridiculous and he’s fully aware of it, but that doesn’t stop him from wondering what it’d be like to kiss him. He’s probably a _great_ kisser. Louis needs to find out for sure.

“Great,” Zayn says, tone laden with sarcasm. “Can’t wait to deal with your lovesick arse at home _and_ at work now.”

“Need I remind you what I walked in on this morning?” Louis threatens, and at Zayn’s blush, he knows he’s got him. “Exactly. So keep your mouth shut.”

♬

On the third day of Louis’ crusade of ‘ _hang out at Empire Records all day and bug Zayn while waiting for Harry Styles to show up,_ ’ Harry does actually come into the shop. Louis notices immediately because when he’s not texting Liam or playing games on his phone or doing things to distract Zayn from his work, he’s got his eyes glued to the door, looking for Harry.

He’s wearing another plaid shirt, this one red and black, but this time he’s paired it with a dark blue headscarf to keep his hair out of his eyes. Louis thinks he might combust on the spot at the sight of him because -- wow. He’s really, really beautiful. Louis has a tendency to idolize people, to build them up to be better than they are, and then he’s inevitably disappointed when he sees them again. This is not the case with Harry.

Louis kind of very definitely wants to pull him back into the stockroom and do a lot of inappropriate things to him. Or maybe lie down right here in the middle of the shop.

“Welcome to Empire Records, how are you today?” Zayn says at the sound of the squeaking of the door, and it’s not until Louis clears his throat that Zayn looks up and realizes who it is. “Oh, hi, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Harry calls to them, voice carrying across the shop. The place isn’t that big, but the counter is on the back wall, so customers have to raise their voices to be heard from the front door. Louis keeps suggesting to Nick that he move the till, but Nick says that if Louis isn’t putting in the labor, he doesn’t get to make the decisions.

“What’s the deal of the day, then?” Harry asks, picking up a record. Louis wants to speak, but he finds he can’t, too consumed with _staring_ at him.

“Artists starting with the letter B,” Zayn says from behind him. “Half price.”

Harry buys a Ben Rector album and as he leaves, he flashes Louis a grin that makes him want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

♬

It becomes a thing after that. Louis hangs out at the record shop, bugging Zayn and memorizing monologues and blocking and deciphering messy notes in the margins of his script, and when Harry comes in, he flirts.

“He likes you!” Zayn says as he pokes him in the chest after Harry’s leaves one time.

“He doesn’t like _me_ , Zayn, he just likes the music you sell here.”

“Sure, okay,” Zayn says, shaking his head like it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.

“Shut up,” Louis retorts, trying to hide the blush that comes to his cheeks.

Harry buys the fucking Titanic soundtrack, of all things, and Louis would like to die.

The next time Harry comes in, Zayn’s in the loo -- “I _know_ you don’t work here, Louis, but just cover for two minutes so I can piss” -- and Louis is alone in the shop. He can’t quite believe his eyes when he sees Harry stroll up to the counter. He walks like a man on a mission, and the combination of his flowered shirt, his black jeans, and the bun on the top of his head makes Louis’ head spin.

“H--hi,” he stutters when Harry’s close, his throat dry. _Why_ does Harry affect him like this? It’s not like he knows anything about the kid.

“Hey, how are you?”

Louis mumbles an answer and repeats the question back, and for all his bravado with Zayn, he really can’t fucking do this.

“I’m good. I realized when I left here the last time… I never asked your name. Incredibly rude of me.”

“It’s Louis,” he says, steadying his voice.

“Harry.”

“I know,” Louis blurts out. “I mean… you signed up for the mailing list. So we’ve got your contact info. I’m not like… stalking you.”

Harry raises one eyebrow and then smiles. It’s the kind of smile where Louis actually feels reassured about his fuck up rather than embarrassed. “Alright. Nice to meet you then, officially.”

Louis racks his brain for something, _anything_ cool to say, but then Zayn walks out of the loo and Harry waves, heading down the classical musical aisle.

Louis knows before he even looks at his face that Zayn’s grinning. “Oh, you are so fucked,” he says, his voice low as he pokes Louis’ collarbone. “So, so fucked.”

“I know,” Louis whines as he drops his head into his palms. “Zayn, I can’t… I don’t…”

“It’s gonna be alright,” Zayn says, squeezing Louis’ shoulder. “Just breathe.”

Harry buys two records, one by Arcade Fire and another by Bon Iver. Louis folds his arms on the counter and lets his face fall on top of them. He is _so_ fucked.

♬

Louis comes into the shop one morning, still on the high of a brilliant performance in class earlier that day, and finds Harry polishing the hinges of the front door.

“Just seemed like you could use it. My dad’s really handy, he taught me to do this stuff ages ago. Zayn said your boss wouldn’t mind. I hope it’s okay...”

Louis is so endeared that he doesn't even know what to say. He wants to kiss the uncertainty off Harry’s face, but he just settles for hugging Harry instead.

And that was a terrible idea, because Harry’s back is so warm and broad and solid under Louis’ hands that Louis is never, ever going to be able to forget it.

♬

It takes a bit of time, but Harry continues to come into the shop and Louis pulls out all his best moves: telling dumb jokes, complementing Harry’s clothes, and generally flirting up a storm. He starts to look forward to it; he never knows for sure when Harry’s going to show up, so it feels like a bit of a game. Soon it’s all he can think about, he and Harry and how they’re going to fall in love. Zayn alternates between teasing him about it and telling him he’s full of shit.

One Tuesday afternoon, Zayn gets annoyed with Louis (there’s only so much teasing he can take about Liam, apparently) and tosses him a pile of records.

“Go shelve these. Otherwise I’m gonna tell Niall to sell our tickets to your showcase and the three of us will hang out and play FIFA instead of watching you perform.”

Louis rolls his eyes and half-heartedly protests that he doesn’t even get paid to be there, he shouldn’t be forced to work. Zayn is having none of it and just points to the shelves.

He’s singing the second half of the alphabet to himself for the thirteenth time, trying to figure out if The Royal Concept gets filed before or after Kelly Rowland, when a young girl comes up to him and taps him on the shoulder.

She’s only a teenager, probably the same age as his sister Fizzy. He wants to say, “Shouldn’t you be in school?” but that would suggest he’s _old_ , and he hates nothing more than the idea that he might be any older than nineteen. He is, but he prefers to ignore that fact.

“Hi,” she says, the braces on her teeth glinting in the soft light of the shop. She holds up a beige tote bag, records stuffed inside. “I want to trade these in. You buy records, right?”

“Yeah, but you need to talk to Zayn for that. He’s at the till.”

They both look to see Zayn on the phone, winding its black cord around and around one finger tip. He looks frazzled.

“Can you just help me instead? I’m kind of in a hurry, I need to get back to school before they notice that I left…”

Louis shakes his head. “I don’t work here, sorry. But run up to Zayn and he should be done soon.”

The girl’s forehead pinches in confusion. “What? Of course you work here.”

“I really don’t, love. I just come to hang out and annoy Zayn.”

“But you’re here every time I come in.”

“I really like annoying him, I guess? I dunno what to tell you, love. But I don’t work here.”

She backs away slowly, still confused, bringing her records with her. He only has a moment to think about it before there’s a pointed coughing behind him.

It’s Harry, standing a few feet from the door. Louis hadn’t heard him come in. Damn Harry for fixing those squeaky hinges. He doesn’t like people sneaking up on him like that.

“So you… don’t work here?”

Whoops.

“I, uh…” Louis stutters, face blushing red and heart racing as he scrambles to come up with something, _anything_ , to get himself out of this mess. “No,” he admits, sheepish. He looks down and drags the top of one of his Vans along the floorboard so that he doesn’t have to look at Harry.

“Oh thank God,” Harry says, striding forward with a bright smile on his face. Louis blinks, uncertain. He’d been expecting anything but that.

“What?”

“I’ve been coming in here all the time just to flirt with you,” Harry says, his eyes twinkling. Goddamn, Louis wants to kiss him so much. “I don’t even own a record player.”

“Are you… you’re joking,” Louis says. He can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Harry shakes his head.

“I wish,” Harry admits. “I got the first one for my friend for a birthday gift, and then I needed to come up with more excuses to see you. I think I’m all set on birthday _and_ Christmas gifts for the next few years. It’s a bit embarrassing, actually.”

“You came in here just to see _me_ ,” Louis says, reaching out to loop two fingers around each of Harry’s wrists. He swings their arms side to side between them.

“I did,” Harry says with a dopey grin. “And you…”

“I came in all the time and bugged Zayn just because I hoped I would see you.”

“We’re idiots,” Harry says, stepping closer to Louis.

“We are,” Louis agrees, and the way he has to tilt his head up just a little bit to look at Harry is kind of hot.

“Can I… Can I take you out to dinner? Somewhere away from here, somewhere with wine and bread and absolutely no records of any kind.”

“Yes,” Louis agrees instantly. “But only if I can do this first.”

And then he leans up and kisses him.

♬

_one year later_

“Haz, get your arse out here!”

“I’m coming!” Harry yells back through the door.

“Yeah, you better not be,” Louis mutters to himself, thinking he’s clever. He’ll have to repeat that one back to Harry, if he ever comes out of his bedroom.

Harry’s shaking his wet hair out of his eyes when he finally comes into the living room. He’s wearing a thin white t-shirt and boxers, and he and Louis have quite literally just finished their third round of anniversary sex, this time in the shower, and yet Louis feels like it would take no time at all for him to be ready again.

“Alright, alright, I’m here. Where’s my present?” He plops down right next to Louis on the couch, practically sitting in his lap, his face reminiscent of a puppy about to get a treat.

“You already got it. Three times, in fact,” Louis says with a grin.

Harry pouts, actually _pouts_ , and then he grabs Louis’ hand in his own. “Have I told you today how much I love you? And how beautiful you are? And how happy you make me?”

“Alright, alright,” Louis acquiesces, but his grin betrays him. “Budge over and I’ll grab it.”

Harry does as he’s told, and moments later, Louis has lugged a big, square-shaped object over to his feet. The wrapping is a bit messy, but he’d done his best, taping a number of bows to the top to make up for it.

“Go on, open it.”

“I love you,” Harry says as he tears into the paper. His jaw drops when he sees it, and Louis can’t help the wide grin that spreads over his face, and then Harry is getting to his feet and kissing Louis wildly. All of a sudden Louis finds himself on the ground, Harry pressing kisses all over his face, the brand new record player sitting in a mess of wrapping paper.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The idea for this prompt came from [this tags post](http://cuddlelourry.tumblr.com/post/125791524302/headcars-banging-you-look-so-cool-harry-ugh-i).
> 
> This is part of a prompt challenge that a group of us are participating in for the prompt "Hinge". To read the other amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, you can [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hinge/works) and to see all fics written as part of the challenge, you can [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/2017_hl_prompt_challenge/works).
> 
> [find me on tumblr](http://afirethatcannotdie.tumblr.com) || [reblog the fic post](http://afirethatcannotdie.tumblr.com/post/156401482881/you-spin-me-right-round-by-afirethatcannotdie-au)


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